


If You Don't Like Me

by islandgirl_246



Series: Just You and Me [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actor Stiles Stilinski, First Meetings, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 06:33:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11412249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: Something tickled Scott’s lips and they twitched. Peter wasn’t sure if that was good or not. “You are so fucking whipped it’s not funny,” Scott said, cocking a critical eye at him. “But knowing the man in question, I get it. He is pretty awesome.”Peter’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Just remember that he’s taken.”This time Scott did allow his lips to curve as he held up hands of surrender. “We’ll see.”





	If You Don't Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly wanted to skip this one. Considered it good and well. That's not saying that I wouldn’t write more of this verse, but this particular story was a burr in my ass. It’s only when someone commented that they supposed the next one was gonna be "meet-the-friends" that I admitted to myself it would be a cop-out for it not to be.  
> So I decided to go a bit further and add something that did make me happy. So here goes.

Peter folded his arms and just stared. Too business-y; too dressy; too “douche-y” (Stiles’ word, not his) . . . No matter where he looked in his closet there was something wrong with every outfit he could assemble. Now that wasn’t to say that he gave a flying fuck what Stiles’ friends thought about his clothes, because his closet was something about which he was extremely proud and supremely arrogant; but he had a feeling no matter what he wore, they would hate him.

Peter grunted and stalked out of the closet, naked, with the damp towel from his earlier shower still draped around his neck. He was foregoing underwear tonight, because Stiles would soooo owe him after this, it wasn’t even worth it trying to work his way into anything to just discard it within 15 minutes of leaving the restaurant. He had plans for his extremely fit partner tonight. And just the thought had him smiling as he got to the kitchen and went straight for a glass. He poured himself a handsome splash of scotch – not enough to have any adverse effects, but enough to tamp down the nerves, which to tell the truth was fucking nuts.

 _It’s just dinner, right?_ He sighed. **_Right!_**

Glass in hand, he ventured back to his closet. If he wore his signature blue, it would show up his eyes, and while Stiles loved that, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to make himself any kind of a spectacle tonight. Blend in or stand out was the question here. He could go with the maroon, black slacks and the tan blazer, but maroon made his skin look paler than it was. Erica once told him the colour on him reminded her of a serial killer she once saw on a werewolf flick, so that was a no-no; besides it had the same showy quality as a blue shirt. Black, he could always wear black, but his heart just wasn’t up for such a non-descript colour tonight; plus it might look like he couldn’t be bothered to take the time to impress – and never let it be said that Peter Anthony Hale didn’t impress.

He groaned fresh, disgusted with himself, reached out and grabbed the blue shirt he’d started with. It was a Henley and he could pair it with a black blazer, slim pants and loafers. A bit understated, but enough effort to look like he cared, and the blue would make Stiles smile. To fuck with what anyone else thought.

Peter tossed the scotch back in a single gulp and moved to climb into his clothing. He was scheduled to pick Stiles up in less than half-hour. He hoped his lover appreciated the sacrifice he was making for him.

++++++

His wallet wasn’t where it normally was, where it was supposed to be. Stiles swore as he dug beneath the sofa cushions, turned out his messenger bag – a surprise gift from Peter after their ‘I want you to meet my friends’ meltdown two days ago.

The gift had arrived early that morning and he’d just had to show it off. He’d been everywhere with it today. It was monogrammed with his initials. _Peter could be such a surprising sap sometimes._ The thought made him smile, and then frown. He really, really hoped tonight didn’t crash and burn. He wanted his friends to see what he did in Peter. The man was intelligent; thoughtful and so caring about everything Stiles was interested in. He still marveled sometimes that he’d been so unlucky to run into Peter that day on his bike, and yet in the end so lucky that it all led to this. To them finding each other.

He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to Peter. He exhaled and swore when the bag turned up no sign of his wallet. He retraced his evening’s activities in his head and barely found it two minutes before the doorbell rang. His watch said Peter was also two minutes late – that in itself was unusual for the meticulous attorney.

Stiles took a deep breath and rushed to open his door . . . and that’s when his brain stalled and he started to salivate at the sight of his boyfriend. _Jesus, he’d forgotten how fucking hot Peter was._ And the asshole’s slow smirk said he knew exactly where Stiles thoughts had devolved to, and approved.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” he muttered, as he leaned up to kiss him hello while stepping out and closing the door behind himself. If he’d barely but made the mistake of inviting Peter in, they probably wouldn’t make it to the restaurant tonight. His lover looked that edible in that damn blue shirt that showed off almost half his chest and blazer. Stiles shook himself physically and blew out a rough breath.

Peter chuckled. _Asshole that he was._

++++++

“If you don’t quiet down over there you are going to vibrate right through the seat and you’d better believe you’ll be paying to replace my leather.” Peter raised a high brow at him and Stiles forced his legs to stop their incessant jiggling.

“Sorry,” he exhaled. “I just want tonight to go well. They all promised to be on good behavior, but with my friends that could mean any number of things.” Stiles stuck his thumb in his mouth again and gnawed at the cuticle. He would need a manicure after tonight, that was for sure. Nerves had him continuously biting at his nails.

Peter reached across and grabbed the offending hand from Stiles’ mouth, maintaining a one-handed steering, as he tried to guarantee the nut he’d fallen for didn’t gnaw his hand bloody. “Look, whatever happens tonight happens. I will try not to be antagonistic but that’s not a promise. So far Kira’s the only one of your friends I even like, sort of.” He’d confessed about Kira’s visit after their cabin hiatus. Stiles’ lips at the time had gone tight, but he’d understood. Peter continued, “I can promise however that at the end of the night, I plan to take you home and not allow you to leave our bed, _if_ we make it to the bed, until well after the break of dawn.”

Stiles’ heart thumped. Peter had just said “ _our bed_ ”. He was sure the man hadn’t noticed and he certainly wasn’t going to draw attention to the slip. He had in fact spent more time at Peter’s lately than his own apartment. But just as Peter had hoped his comments brought a rush of colour into Stiles’ cheeks and a smile to his lips.

That was better.

“Sounds like my kinda plan.” Stiles twined his fingers into Peter’s as his boyfriend continued toward the restaurant.

 If Stiles sent up a short prayer that he’d end the night still having friends, no one needed to know.

++++++

Kira was the last to arrive of the bunch. She’d done it deliberately and by Danny’s significant side-eyed glare, he knew it too. She just didn’t want to engage in the chatter before Stiles and Peter arrived, which was what she guessed had Danny looking a bit put out. They, she and Danny, were perhaps the most objective about this relationship.

She squeezed a chair in next to him, shoving Jordan over one space. The lawyer merely raised a brow along with a glass to his head, but didn’t complain. He was used to this side of her by now.

“I swear I’m not taking any shit from him tonight,” Scott muttered, but not looking at anyone in particular. He too sipped at his drink.

“Oh shut it, Scott. You promised to be on your best behavior because we all know you’re hanging on by a thread as it is. Try not to make it worse,” Lydia chastised. “Stiles is our friend, as much as he is yours. And after the shit he’s put up with, with all our respective ‘relationships’ over the years, this is the least we can do for him – to give his boyfriend the benefit of the doubt unless he proves otherwise. We said we’d give this a chance and we will.”

“You’re only saying that cause you like douches,” Danny said, taking a gulp of whatever concoction was in his glass. Kira wasn’t going to ask because the first and last time she’d made the mistake of stealing Danny’s drink, she’d had to be helped into a cab. And Kira was no lightweight when it came to cocktails. She raised a hand at the passing waiter to order her own.

“Guilty as charged,” Lydia grinned and tapped something out on her phone.

“Can you put that away for the night,” Allison asked tightly. “We’re supposed to be socialising. The least we can do is stay off social media for one night. Besides, we need to pay attention and make sure this isn’t Stockholm syndrome or something.”

Lydia raised a high brow and only stopped short of looking down her nose at her best friend as she responded, “I think you might want to check that tone with me, sweetheart. Because you and McWonder over there are put out with Stiles choice of boyfriend,” Scott scowled at her, “doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be. I for one actually want to meet the guy we’ve been skewering in conversation for the past year and a half. And FYI, I can multitask.” With that parting shot she returned to her phone, dismissing Allison and her drawn brows.

Allison’s face went tighter, if that was at all possible. Danny, ever the wrangler leaned over and deliberately bumped shoulders with her. “Easy, Ali. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer. He’s just one dude. Besides, if I remember you liked him well enough before he started dating Stiles.”

That much was true. Allison had once upon a time been a fan of Peter Hale. He was everything she wanted to be in the profession. Feared, respected, gave zero fucks . . . she sighed. Yeah, but her family would never allow her to be as carefree and independent as Peter Hale. The bridle was too tight. So much was expected. Plus, he’d hurt Scott.

Her ex had never given all the details, but a couple months ago things had gone cool between Stiles and Scott, and he’d come away from the experience more bitter than she’d ever seen him, despite the fact they were now rebuilding their friendship. If she was honest enough though, she could admit that even before that she’d started disliking this arrangement between Stiles and Peter. Scott had become obsessed with everything Stiles did with the man and that left her unsettled. She was too used to being the centre of Scott’s world. Now she couldn’t recall the last time he’d called her to do anything but complain about _StilesandPeter_.

And speak of the devil.

With one hand still entwined with Stiles’, Peter walked toward the table that was angled so as to provide some measure of privacy to the group. In fact, it seemed like Peter was gliding, and for all that Stiles beside him looked nervous, the actor seemed content to just let the lawyer hold his hand.

++++++

“Well, well. Holding hands. Now ain’t that something cute,” Danny murmured, and Kira snorted as Scott tried to pull back the glare.

“Hi guys. This is Peter,” Stiles said as the duo arrived beside the table. He cleared his throat as Peter looked at him fondly, with laughter in his eyes at Stiles’ nerves. “Peter, these are my friends. You’ve met Jordan and Ali and Scott. This is L-Lydia, Danny and, um, Kira.” Stiles hadn’t mentioned to anyone that Kira and Peter had met. That discussion had been between him and Kira. As far as he was concerned the issue was now closed – hopefully never to be repeated.

Peter turned watchful eyes on the crew. Eyes that were still filled with laughter at Stiles’ nervousness, but something else too – something just this side of danger –  and that sent a delicious shiver up Lydia’s spine. It seemed the attorney came prepared, but not for himself. His eyes said he was there for Stiles, and only Stiles. She could respect that.

And so, apart from Kira, who broke into a wide grin, and Danny who busted out the dimples (he really should give public warnings with those things), Lydia found her red lips parting in an actual genuine smile. _So Stiles finally had someone at his back. Good for him._

Peter pulled out a chair, but waited until Stiles was seated before he took the only other vacant spot next to him.

“I’ve heard a lot about all of you. It’s good to put actual faces to those names,” Peter said as his eyes scanned them thoroughly again, pausing for just a moment on Scott and Allison.

When the group fell silent and Stiles looked like he was about to launch into one of his non-stop, anxiety-fueled monologues, Lydia cut that shit short with, “So Peter, I hear you represent Lula Diamond? Is she really as she seems.”

Someone somewhere groaned. It was either Jordan, Danny or Kira, Peter wasn’t sure. “Depends on what you think she seems like, I think,” he said vaguely, as his gaze darted between the friends, trying to figure out what he had missed as a few began shaking their heads.

But Lydia wasn’t having any evasions this evening. Her eyes narrowed and Jordan, yes it was surely Jordan this time, groaned, “Here we go.”

And the group laughed, Stiles grinning wide while looking slightly embarrassed. Even Allison managed a smirk. “Oh screw you, Jordan. If a certain famous friend of ours – and I call no names – would introduce me, I wouldn’t have to resort to other tactics.” She tossed her red hair defiantly.

Stiles closed his eyes still grinning. “Give it a rest, Lydia. I am never introducing you to Lula Diamond; I told you that. And neither will Peter.” Stiles knew that the gorgeous Lula was a bit too Lydia-like in the terror she wreaked occasionally. Essentially it was like having a second Lydia in a different body. The two could well be sisters. An introduction of any kind was just asking for trouble.

And just like that, the ice on the evening was broken. Peter felt Stiles relax at his side as the actor scooted his chair closer and proceeded to pick his arm up, lean up against his side and wrap Peter’s arm around his shoulders. Peter continued chatting with Lydia, who was apparently a big fan of the singer, as Stiles got more and more comfortable against him.

The food was good, the conversation wide-ranging, even if stilted and awkward in parts – like when a question about where Peter went to school turned into reminiscing about some of their own college and university days, which ultimately turned into Scott and Stiles anecdotes. It was the first time all evening that Scott even showed signs of relaxing himself. His eyes had been darting between Stiles, Peter, and the arm draped around Stiles shoulder, especially when Stiles began to feed Peter from his own plate.

It had started simple enough. “Oh, you have to try this,” Stiles had moaned around his own bite of rosemary infused lamb, cutting a piece and shoving it in the direction of Peter’s lips as the lawyer conversed freely with Jordan and Kira. The piece of meat was in Peter’s mouth before he could stop Stiles.

“Isn’t that heaven?” his lover had asked eyes shining.

And before Peter’s brain even caught up, he’d leaned forward and kissed Stiles softly on those red and luscious lips. “Ummhmmm,” he smiled slowly at the mole-dotted young man. It was only when Stiles blushed, pleased, and his eyes widened that it seemed Peter dropped back into reality. The entire table – even Lydia’s debate with Scott about something or other – had gone silent.

Peter swallowed and then quickly looked up. Kira had a soft grin on her face; Danny’s jaws were hanging open; Jordan look slightly scandalized; Lydia looked like she was totally above such adolescent PDA; Allison visibly swallowed and looked away embarrassed for some reason, and for just a flash before he too averted his eyes, Scott looked utterly lost and alone.

It all baffled Peter.

From everything Stiles had told him, PDA in this crowd was nothing new. In fact, on more than one occasion the others had needed to remind Scott and Allison that they were in public and to tone it down. And Danny? _Well, let’s just not go there. . ._ So Peter kissing Stiles should be nothing new. Hell, the whole damn world had seen Peter kiss Stiles after that shit went public.

Peter was just damn relieved that the evening had not gone as bad as he had expected so far. It seemed like the others were really trying to ease up on Stiles, and the glow to his boyfriend’s fair skin only made Peter look forward to later tonight all the more.

“You two, will NOT turn into _those_ two,” Lydia stabbed a hard finger in Allison and Scott’s direction, “or I shall cease attending these ‘get-togethers’. One pair of you doing that,” she flailed another arm in their direction, “is quite enough. More than enough, if you ask me. So cut it out, right now.”

And it was all just too easy of an opening for Peter to ignore. “Having problems with a little PDA, Ms. Martin?” he smirked and wondered briefly if she was any relation to _the_ Judge Martin. Unlikely, but they did have some personality traits in common.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” Her nose wrinkled delicately.

“Oh come on!” Danny spoke up with a dangerous twinkle in his eye. “Do I need to remind you of high school and a certain best mate of mine? If I remember correctly there were bleachers involved and . . .”

“No,” Lydia said sharply, eyes wide. “Stop it! Danny, don’t you dare. I was 15!”

And Stiles started to giggle, turning his face into Peter’s neck as he did so. Within minutes the entire table was in rowdy stitches. All, perhaps, except Kira who just shook her head in consternation and maybe a little bit embarrassment about the attention they were now attracting from other tables. As the two non-Beacon Hilliers, it was a story Jordan and Kira had heard before, but one that never failed to get the mostly unflappable Lydia flustered.

It was no secret that Lydia’s high school boyfriend had been totally gone on her. They had also been an item through part of their college years before the guy (or douche, as Stiles put it) took off for Europe. But the story of how they got caught by the coach and half the team behind the bleachers on the football field, much to Lydia’s mortification, was one with which they were very familiar.

From there the good-natured ribbing began. The stiffness of the evening eased all the more, perhaps assisted by copious amounts of alcohol, and Peter rued the fact that his night was perhaps going to be spent watching Stiles throw up, if he didn’t slow down. _There went his plans to strip him naked later – at least not for any fun times at this rate._

But at least it got Scott to lighten up, and Allison seemed to take her cue from the brunette group leader. Peter was still surprised he’d had it so easy. Yes they’d probed him like a doctor testing his prostate (*behave your bad selves*), but he’d been able to humour them and not get offended by anyone’s tone.

Peter sat out most of the dialogue for the rest of the evening and just watched Stiles socialise with his friends. It was most revealing, and showed that the group wasn’t as tightly Scott-influenced as he’d first expected. It had certainly worked in his favour tonight. They all seemed to relax on the _Everybody Hates Peter_ vibes the more he answered their questions openly.

Just before they all split up, with Lydia asking Peter when next he’d join the bunch for a get together and Peter trying to control the groping hands of a pleasantly tipsy Stiles Stilinski, Scott finally approached Peter.

“Hey, can I talk to you a minute?”

Peter tried not to frown. There were quite a few cameras across the street, shooting endless pictures of Hale and Stilinski out dining with friends. The cameras had been there when they arrived and apparently they had stuck around for the last near four hours.

So Peter would see what Stiles’ best friend wanted and counselled himself not to punch him regardless of what happened. The media buzz had died down a bit. No reason to kick it up again. As he tried to untangle himself from Stiles, turning his boyfriend over to Kira for safe-keeping, Stiles seemed to sober up in that moment.

“Scott?” the uncertainty and pleading was ripe in his voice. “Scott, please . . .”

“It’s ok, babe.” Peter leaned over, eyes on Lydia as he gave Stiles a more lingering kiss. “Be right back.” As expected Lydia didn’t disappoint with a significant eye roll. Peter smiled and followed Scott a short distance away from the rest of the crowd. Away from any prying ears, though he was sure a few cameras did swing in their direction. Ready. Waiting.

“Look, I still don’t like you. I still don’t trust you. I still think Stiles has too big a heart for you not to smash him somewhere along the way,” he paused tellingly before he added, “but I’m willing to admit that when it happens it may not be entirely because you wanted it to. You were right, and my feelings for Stiles is something I’m dealing with. That’s on me. But I swear if he comes to me in tears, lawyer or not, I’m going to go to prison for what I do to you, Peter Hale.”

It was within Peter’s ability to scoff and belittle the sorta olive branch-like initiative; to allow Scott to know there was no way in this hell or the next that he’d ever gain the upper hand on Peter without a gun in the midst; to crush the supposed friend, like his hands wanted to for the confession he’d made yet again about these lingering feelings for Stiles. Stiles, whom he still spent a significant amount of time with. But instead Peter tempered his tongue.

“I don’t need us to be friends, Scott. That’s never been my aim. I just need you to respect what I have with Stiles. Nothing more, nothing less. And to tell your girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, whatever she is to you that if she keeps battering at Stiles about me the way she has, she’s going to be next on my radar. The truth is, to me you guys on your own mean nothing. To Stiles, you mean a hell of a lot and that’s enough because there’s very little I wouldn’t do for him.”

Something tickled Scott’s lips and they twitched. Peter wasn’t sure if that was good or not. “You are so fucking whipped it’s not funny,” Scott said, cocking a critical eye at him. “But knowing the man in question, I get it. He is pretty awesome.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Just remember that he’s taken.”

This time Scott did allow his lips to curve as he held up hands of surrender. “We’ll see.”

Peter exhaled, shook his head and turned away. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He wasn’t afraid of anything Scott could toss at him, and he didn’t consider the young man much competition where Stiles was concerned.

Stiles though, was concerned. His eyes searched Peter’s face repeatedly when he rejoined the gang, hands resting tight against the open throat of his Henley T. Then the confused eyes jumped to Scott, who went over to Allison and whispered something.

The lawyer’s eyes flicked over to Peter, part annoyance, part fear, and maybe, if Peter squinted a bit, maybe something that also looked like respect. He’d take that too.

++++++

So a couple weeks later, with Stiles walking around his own apartment in near panic, Peter reached out and grabbed the man, dragging him into his lap.

“You’re doing it again.” Peter dropped a kiss in the crook of Stiles’ neck.

“I know. I know. I just can’t keep still. Why the hell wouldn’t he let us pick him up from the airport? That makes no sense to me. What if something happened to him?”

“Stiles, your father is a grown ass man. Let him be. The service would have called if the car had missed him or if the flight was late. It’s probably the Boston traffic, as it always is.”

Stiles dropped his head against Peter’s and sighed. “I just want everything to be perfect. What if he doesn’t like you? No, that’s nuts. Of course he’ll like you, but . . .”

“You worry too much,” Peter counselled, delivering another kiss against his cheek.

“You love it when I worry.” Stiles said cheekily, leaning back to look Peter in the face.

“Of course I do. Because after those endorphins crash you’re always horny as hell. What’s not to love about that?” Peter grinned at him. Stiles turned slowly and began to straddle him as the doorbell rang.

The speed with which the actor vaulted out of his lap was nothing short of movie worthy. “That’s him. He’s here . . .”

“Stiles.” Peter rose slowly. “Down.”

Stiles inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “Thanks.” He smiled and went to open the door. Peter smiled at the enthusiasm, even if it was nerve-tinted.

Peter stood back to observe as strong, veined hands wrapped around Stiles, almost making him look smaller and frailer than he really was. The man that hugged him was ruggedly good looking and clearly loved his son. Peter’s heart gave a gentle tug as he thought about Talia not being here to finally see her little brother fall. She’d never seen him in love, and would never see that gorgeous smile that enveloped Stiles’ entire face as he looked at the people he cared about. Would never see that blazing hot temper of his that equaled Peter’s in every way. Never see her son and daughter sit once more to have a happy Thanksgiving meal tomorrow as they attempted to put that once loved family ritual back together.

“You must be Peter.” The Sheriff stepped forward and held out a firm hand for him to shake.

“That would be me. Good to finally meet you, John.”

“It’s a pleasure for me too, Peter. I feel like I already know you.” He gave a side-eye to his vibrating off-spring with a slight chuckle.

“I know what you mean.” Peter smiled back.

“Dad, let’s get you settled.” Stiles butted in, hoping to derail any sharing of secrets before he had a chance to lay down what his dad was allowed to tell Peter. Not that John would heed any warnings, and especially not from his son; but it was still good to try.

“I do know the place, Stiles. Stop hovering and relax. And while you’re at it, I’m in the mood for some ribs, so if we don’t already have dinner plans, hint-hint.”

“Only if you have salad with it!” Stiles yelled as John sauntered off down the corridor to the room he used whenever he came to visit.

John dropped his bag on the floor and breathed in. Peter seemed solid like he’d expected, but the way he’d stood there, eyes on Stiles with a faraway look . . . John knew what that look was. Memories could sneak up in a moment, and it was no doubt Peter had been thinking of his own family.

Just then a thought popped into John’s head. He’d heard about a place that served the best ribs in the City. Maybe he could convince them to take him. _Salad_ , he scoffed, _as if!_

But what he found at the end of the corridor, just as he opened his lips to call out, was his boy; his boy in the arms of his boyfriend as he kissed him most tenderly.

“Told you you were worrying for nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. But you love it when I worry,” Stiles muttered against those lips, eyes half-lidded, arms wrapping around Peter’s neck.

“I don’t think it’s just your worrying that I love.” Peter whispered, but loud enough that John could pick up the words clearly even against Stiles’ lips. He heard Stiles’ resulting gasp as he uttered shakily, “Peter?”

The lawyer took a finger and tilted Stiles’ eyes up to his. His face suddenly serious. “It’s you I’m in love with, Miloslaw Stiles Stilinski. It’s only ever been and will ever be you.”

“Peter . . .” The name was lost beneath Peter’s lips.

And John turned on his heel to give them some privacy. He was so damn proud of his kid. And now he could relax knowing he had someone to finally take care of him like he should be. To love him like he deserved.

The ribs could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to pass judgement on this chapter. I literally had to think for almost a week about how to even start it. John, however, made me smile. (I only realised after writing this that the title is a soca song in my country...lol)


End file.
